


Oh Captain, My Captain

by NiciJones



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bondage, M/M, captain uniform, handjob, sailor's hat, sailor's knots, soft summer vibes turned into porn, yacht party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 00:06:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19306624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiciJones/pseuds/NiciJones
Summary: There's a party on a yacht and a captain's uniform, a captain's hat and sailor's knots. That's all you need to know.





	Oh Captain, My Captain

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm, so this might be complete garbage? I blame all the lovely people from the Discord channel who got excited like little kids when I said I might write some Charmie and generally showered me in praise? Like thanks? How do I deserve this? This is for all of you?
> 
> And if you are sitting at your device going what is she doing, didn't she want to write for other fandoms? You are absolutely right. I have written and finished an 8k GoT thing that needs heavy editing that I am too lazy for at the moment. 
> 
> This is also probably not going to be the last Charmie thing from me. But who knows what is next. Enjoy whatever this is.

“The Hammer boy is throwing a party,” Monica says out of the open bathroom like it’s the most obvious thing and really how can Timmy not know?  
“Who the fuck is that?” He answers back, not taking his eyes from the episode of Friends that he is currently watching.  
It’s summer break which means no exams, no uni to ruin everyone’s social life. Timmy’s parents had agreed to let him stay in LA since he barely had time to take in the LA lifestyle during the semester. Or so he had told them.  
“Fuckin’ New Yorker.” Jessica curses and redoes her eyeliner. Timmy’s three roommates are huddled around the only mirror in the bathroom and continually shoving each other out of the way. Which leads to them cursing each other loudly and having to redo most of what they just applied to their faces.  
Timmy shrugs on the couch. He’s used to them and their attitude now. Even though he is still not sure whether they are serious about it.  
“The Hammers! Come on, Timmy! The rich fuckers! Own practically half the campus and therefore also your ass.” Nancy interjects trying to get her earring in.  
Timmy hums.  
“Their son is smoking hot. And also the host of tonight’s party.” Monica interjects.  
“And everyone is hoping to get a piece of that ass,” Nancy explains. “Attractive attracts the attractive, you know. Show him the pics, Jessy.”  
“It’s Jessi _ca_ , bitch.” She tuts but soon enough there is an arm reaching out from the bathroom and Timmy stretches off the couch to take the phone out of her hand.  
The guy _is_ fucking hot. He hands the phone back.

He ends up getting the details from them (it’s on a fucking yacht, Jesus Christ) and then closes the door behind them.  
Immediately he rushes into his room and pulls out his party outfit (tight skinny jeans and a white tank top with some graphic). In a hurry, he showers, styles his hair in this deliberately looking like he just had sex style and gets dressed. He throws on some eyeliner from Jessica ( _not_ Jessy) and rushes out of the apartment.  
He likes showing up fashionably late to parties but he doesn’t want to miss out on the fun.

It _is_ a fucking yacht. A huge fucking millionaire yacht. And that guy is supposed to be a student? Who cares. There’s dancing going on so that’s where Timmy is supposed to be.  
He quickly makes his way through the throng of people crowding the hallways and stairs up to the deck. Countless women and men looking to be the chosen one by mister millionaire son, Timmy bets. And just as many knowing that this is going to attract a big crowd of extremely attractive people and mister millionaire son can’t give them all the time of the day. 

Timmy takes the appreciative looks but he doesn’t linger. He’s here for the dancing. His limbs have been itching for weeks when he had forced his way through the exams. Now is the time to let loose. Or enjoy the LA lifestyle as he had told his parents.  
On deck, everyone is writhing to the music that is being put on by a DJ above them in the space behind the steering wheel. The yacht is sitting in the port but no one seems to mind the noise.  
And Timmy is definitely done thinking much about it as he throws himself into the crowd and lets himself be carried by the beat of the music. The dance floor is lit by flashing bright lights. Bodies are moving together, rubbing, grinding, writhing. The scent of sweat, sex, and the sea fills the air.  
It doesn’t matter much to Timmy who closes his eyes and lets the heavy bass press down on his chest, lets it worm its way into his ear and makes it the rhythm to which his bodies exists.

 

He emerges an hour later, sweaty and high on adrenaline. But he needs some hydration. And a little break to catch his breath. He meanders inside to the bar. Sometime in the past, the host had shown up next to the DJ (in a fucking captain’s uniform what a fucking cliche) and declared the real party to be started now as they had left the port behind and the bass had increased another notch in intensity.  
They didn’t go that far out for safety reasons, Timmy suspected but far enough no one would take offense to their behaviour.  
He ordered something without alcohol. After all, this is to get hydrated and he was afraid he’d pass out going back out there in the heat of bodies if he got drunk.  
It doesn’t take long for the first suitors to show up. It’s always flattering and now and then Timmy would take them up on a little make-out session but never a one-night stand. That’s not why he goes dancing. It’s the feeling of being alive and young. 

He gently declines every offer when suddenly he gets ambushed.  
“Not up for it tonight?” A deep, smooth voice asks from behind him.  
Surprised Timmy turns around. And there he is. The golden boy himself all dressed up in his expensive costume and with a watch that probably costs as much as Timmy’s textbooks.  
But up close there’s something else. That face. Blue eyes, blond hair, stubble. He knows that face. Oh yes but usually it is dressed in a UCLA sweater and jeans that look like they dreamed of a washing machine in a different life.  
It stuns him absolutely speechless.

The man slides into the seat next to him and gives the bartender a sign which she seems to know. Shortly after, a glass of what Timmy thinks is whiskey appears in front of him.  
“What? Cat got your tongue?” The man, who has to be mister millionaire son, smiles at him.  
“No uhm-“ Timmy stutters and internally scolds himself. _Get it together, Chalamet!_ “You’re- I _know_ you!” He exclaims and now that’s just really smooth. Any second he’s going to get up and leave.  
“Do you?” That’s clearly mirth dancing in those eyes now. And god, how is it legal that they are this blue?

“Yeah, uhm- Russian Lit 101?” He blurts out and he really needs to relearn how to string a whole sentence together like _right now_.  
The man looks away and pretends to straighten his pants before twisting the glass in his hand again. “Well, yeah. I suppose you do. You are good at remembering faces huh?”  
“You’re the only one giving critical answers that are worth taking note of.” Timmy blurts out and _congratulations on the sentence_ but _we need to work on the brain to mouth filter like immediately_.  
The man, Armie, _right that was his name, thank you brain_ , looks up and is there genuine surprise? It immediately makes Timmy flustered all over again and really it shouldn’t. It’s the same fucking guy just dressed in an outfit that probably cost as much as his monthly rent.

“Well, I’m Armie. Armie Hammer.” He introduces himself now and offers his hand.  
What a huge fucking palm but then again Armie is a huge fucking guy. He easily dwarfs Timmy.  
“Tim. I mean Timothée Chalamet but Timmy is cool.” He quickly fills in and watches his palm drown in Armie’s.  
“Timmy,” Armie says tasting every vowel like a delicious whiskey. “Nice to meet you.”  
His squeeze is firm and sure.  
Naturally, when Armie lets go of his hand, Timmy nervously reaches for his drink and takes a sip before remembering that he ordered something without alcohol. 

“So what’s with the costume?” Timmy asks because really? A suit would have been over the top but he’s in a full outfit with a hat and everything.  
Promptly Armie tips his cap at him. “Not a fan?” He asks with a smile that shows off his canines.  
Timmy bites his lip. Who wouldn’t be a fan? He shakes his head because Armie surely knows the effect this has on people. “You know I have eyes.” He points out.  
“So can I take this as a yes? Should I try harder?” He teases him and leans in a bit closer. 

No one is going to believe me, Timmy thinks as Armie takes the hat off and puts the rim between his teeth. “That better?” His voice is muffled by the fabric.  
“Oh my god.” Timmy groans feeling heat rise in his face and quickly covers it with his hands. “Please go back to criticising Dostoyevsky.” Timmy pleads, feeling all eyes around them on him. To avoid any further humiliation, he snatches the cap from Armie’s mouth.  
“Who said I can’t do both?” Armie turns his blue eyes on him.  
Timmy sends a glare and puts the hat on his own head. “Look at me, I could buy your flat with that vase over there. _And_ I can criticise the style of a widely acclaimed author.” Timmy mocks him.  
“Actually, most people would say I can’t do both,” Armie admits, his tone slightly bitter now but he quickly paints over it.  
“Well, I can now say from experience that you can do indeed do both,” Timmy assures him with a light tone and feels earnestly surprised eyes on him a second later.

Timmy brushes over it. “So what is all this? You were a complete loner in class. Why now the sudden need to socialise?”  
Armie shrugs. “I am not like that in all classes. I am actually here for law school but I don’t want my parents to know I am taking stuff like Russian Lit. They don’t think it’s useful and therefore consider it a waste of time, basically. Also, it’s exhausting to be judged as the Hammer heir all the time.”  
Timmy hums. “Being rich doesn’t mean everything is cool huh?”  
“No, god, no.” Armie shakes his head and gestures for another drink. “Networking is important though and really who doesn’t like to party now and then? Especially if it’s a legendary good one by a Hammer. So my parents won’t complain too much.” The confident smirk is back on Armie’s face but Timmy feels like he can read him better now. This is not completely honest. He’s doing what is expected of him.

“Well, I definitely love to dance now and then. What about you, captain? I haven’t seen you out on the floor tonight yet.” Timmy grins deciding to change the topic.  
“Ohhh. Yeah. Uh. Terrible backache.” Armie nods.  
“Really?” Timmy makes a sympathetic face knowing that Armie is messing with him. “Right here, yeah?” He reaches out and presses a spot between his shoulder blades, rubs slightly back and forth.  
The action brings their faces a lot closer together but Timmy only notices that when Armie hums affirmatively. His warm breath hits Timmy’s cheek.  
“You know I have heard dancing actually helps with that,” Timmy whispers. He has no clue where the courage for that is coming from. He grabs Armie by the wrist and pulls him out on the dancefloor.

Armie immediately tenses. If he wasn’t _the_ millionaire son everyone is trying to sleep with, he still is a head taller than everyone around him. A fact he very much seems to be aware off by the way his eyes nervously twitch over the crowd.  
“Relax.” Timmy places his big palms on his hips before wrapping his arms around Armie’s neck. 

They don’t really dance to the beat but they are moving and Armie’s attention slowly shifts from the crowd around them to Timmy. He can feel that by the way his shoulders loosen up more and more.  
Eventually, Armie leans down to whisper into his ear. “You should keep the hat.”  
Timmy flushes, remembering he’s still wearing the stupid thing. “You like it?”  
“I’d like it better if you were wearing nothing else.” Armie’s breath is hot at his ear and his voice is dark and raspy. “There are a couple of sailor knots I can show you…”

Timmy steps back, his eyes dark with desire but it’s the same hunger he sees mirrored back at him on Armie’s face. Is he really going to do this? Is this because it’s the fucking millionaire son? No. Timmy is quick to decide that this is not about the fact that the whole room wants to be in his position. It definitely is about the way Armie looks in this uniform but most of all he could see himself go all the way with him because he already _knows_ Armie. They have led countless debates in class while the rest had napped or read their answers off Wikipedia articles.

“Yes.” Timmy blurts out even though Armie hadn’t really asked. Not out loud at least. But, “yes,” he says again.  
“Follow me.” This time it’s Armie that grabs him and pulls. 

Timmy stumbles after him through packed corridors and stairways down into the ship until Armie has to pull out a key to get them into his private quarters. Timmy’s heart is racing. This is not something he does. Especially not with guys like Armie. He just seems to be too good of a deal. Handsome and intelligent and funny and kind? Unlikely.  
He swallows and walks into the luxurious room. The bed is massive and takes up most of the small but expensive room.  
Armie closes the door behind them and locks it but leaves the key in. Enough to keep any unwanted visitors outside but not actually locking Timmy inside.

“So, uhm-“ Timmy starts but before he can make things awkward, Armie is on him, his lips on Timmy’s. Timmy immediately agrees with that plan of action and enthusiastically participates. It’s a bit of a blur then of them making out, hands roaming, lips wandering, breaths filling the room. His hat gets knocked off more than once but Armie always takes the time to put it back on.  
After awhile, Armie pulls back. They are both completely disheveled, hair a mess and out of breath.  
“Are you sure you want this?” Armie asks him.  
If anything Timmy is more convinced that this is a fantastic idea. He nods eagerly, nearly dislodging the hat again.

“Okay. But there are certain rules, okay? I need you to tell me if you don’t like anything I am doing, if you need me to stop or to untie you, understood?” Armie tells him and Timmy can feel his heart beat even faster.  
“Yes.”  
“Good.” Armie’s blue eyes rake over his face. “Get on the bed, Timmy.” His voice has changed. It’s still loving but there’s a new undertone. Like steel.  
Timmy swallows and obeys.

He kneels on the bed and watches as Armie walks over and opens the closet in the corner which is filled with rope. Timmy swallows and watches Armie touch several of them, run them through his long fingers before settling on one that he brings back to the bed.  
“I want you to undress now, Timmy. You may take your hat off for that but I want you to put it back on after you are done, understood?”  
Timmy nods and gets to work. He feels Armie’s gaze on him as he takes off what little he is wearing and then puts the hat back on. He’s already half hard and getting there more by the second. 

Armie stops in front of him and takes him in. “Beautiful. Now turn around and cross your wrists behind your back.”  
Timmy does as he is told and soon feels the texture of the rope against his skin. “The rope may chafe. Just tell me if it gets too much.” Armie tells him before going from his wrists to wrapping a simple pattern over Timmy’s chest. He includes several knots that look exotic and beautiful to Timmy.  
He keeps as still as possible as Armie works around him before he ties the last knot and tells him to turn around again.  
“There. All done. Turn around.” Armie stands at the foot of the bed and waits for Timmy to shuffle back around. 

There a moment of silence as Timmy kneels before him on the sheets, tied up and with the captain’s hat sitting on his curls. Then Armie lets out a deep breath.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out. “Do you have any idea?” He kicks his shoes off and shoves his jacket off and then his shirt before he gets back on the bed and touches Timmy’s torso, lets his fingers run over the rope and pale skin

“I have never-“ It slips out before Timmy can stop it when Armie’s finger wander lower.  
“What?” Armie sounds shocked.  
“No, I have, just never like this.” Timmy is shaking slightly now, he’s fully hard and throbbing now and he needs Armie to touch him.  
“Okay, okay, I’ll go easy on you,” Armie promises softly and then finally, finally touches him.  
Timmy quivers under his touch and can feel the rope moving over his skin. Armie continues to watch his reaction and strokes him achingly slowly while Timmy pants and bites back one moan after the other, not sure if he is allowed to make any noise. 

In the end, it’s a pleading, “Armie,” that comes across his lips.  
“What?”  
“Please.”  
“Please, what, Timmy? What do you want?”  
Timmy is shaking now, barely holding himself together. “Come. I want to come.” He begs and Armie promptly fastens his movements and rub his thumb over the tip of his cock.  
“Then come for me, Timmy.” Armie orders and it doesn’t take any more than that for Timmy to fall apart with a moan being torn from his lips. The cum splashes over his skin and the rope and when he’s done he nearly tips back into the pillows if Armie hadn’t held him and slowly reached for a knot on his back.

He tugs which makes the rope rub once more over his sensitive skin before it all comes undone. “So good,” Armie cooes. “You did so well, Timmy.” He assures him and slowly lowers Timmy into the fluffy sheets. He quickly throws the rope on the floor along with his own pants and then curls up next to Timmy.

“Are you okay?” Armie asks softly.  
Timmy hums, still slightly dazed. “Yeah, that was pretty incredible.” He sighs and stretches. Then he suddenly remembers Armie. “What about you?” He asks worriedly.  
“I’ll be fine. This was all about you.” Armie pulls the hat away and strokes through Timmy’s curls. “This works for me.”  
Timmy swallows and looks up at Armie. “Next time?” He asks hopefully and sees a smile forming on Armie’s face. “Yeah alright. Next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr:  
> Main: [nicijones](https://nicijones.tumblr.com)  
> Charmie: [charmie-inspiration](https://charmie-inspiration.tumblr.com/)


End file.
